


Architecture Unfamiliar

by Anonymous



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bondage, Cock Warming, Gags, Hogtie, Horseback Riding, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Prince Harry Styles, Prostitution, Rope Bondage, Royalty, Sex on a Horse, Sort Of, i mean not really he's more of a royal courtesan but there's no tag for that, i'd say don't try this at home but good luck even managing, it's completely consensual but just to be safe, unsafe bondage practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The bottom rung of the royal whores — the ones who don't even live in the palace — are the saddle whores.Louis Tomlinson is a saddle whore who knows his place, and likes it.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 126
Collections: Anonymous Unicorns





	Architecture Unfamiliar

**Author's Note:**

> I've been stuck in my house a long time now, guys. Just go with it.

Everyone in the kingdom knows of the prince’s beauty. 

He’s known to be kind to his people, and good and fair in court. But he’s known more for the cut of his jawline and the cherubic bow shape of his lips. 

Louis knows that he’s just one of many to fawn over the prince. He also knows that even among the royal whores, he’s on the lowest rung of the social ladder. Yet he stays, for the chance to someday move up to the palace courtesan life, and be one step closer to the prince, instead of sleeping in the stables in preparation for the next journey.

This morning, though, the prince is going to be traveling to the next city over — nearly five hours by horseback. So here Louis is, watching the royal horses get groomed and saddled up. 

“He’s riding Alfie,” the stablehand calls from the far end, saddling up an absolutely huge black horse. Louis knows this horse well, has ridden him probably hundreds of times. He makes his way over and waits until the saddle is properly strapped in place.

“Alright, I haven’t got all day,” the man says, looking toward Louis impatiently. Louis rolls his eyes, but obediently strips his clothes off, folding his vest and pants neatly on his trousers and storing them in the corner of the stall. He’s long ago stopped feeling shame, knows he has a body good enough to satisfy royalty.

Taking the offered step stool, because trying to mount a horse shoeless and pantsless is a feat, Louis swings himself up and situates himself at the very front of the saddle, the double seat made specifically for journeys like this. 

“Hurry up then,” the stablehand growls, and Louis leans forward, clutching around the horses neck as he folds his legs up neatly so that he’s crouched with the heels of his feet touching his bum. The stablehand (whom Louis’ never really liked, and who clearly thinks this part of the job is below him) is quick to start wrapping Louis’ ankle in a thick, silver rope (a sign of the royal whores, both softer and stronger than the common brown rope). He ties it tight (uncomfortably so, as is his habit), and loops it around Louis’ thigh next, knotting it and tugging the remainder down to wrap around his lower thigh and upper calf in the same manner. 

Once his left leg is secured, the man pulls the rope through the silver buckles of the saddle to keep it in place, and stalks to the other side of the horse to do the same with Louis’ right leg. It’s a quick procedure, no pomp and circumstance about it, that has Louis so well tied in place that his legs might as well be an extension of the saddle themselves. 

_ It’s for security, _ a more experienced courtesan had told him when he was first brought into the fold.  _ So you can’t attack or kidnap the prince. _

As if he ever would. 

The legs are the easy part, but losing the use of his arms still sends him reeling a little, and the stablehand  _ never _ waits until he’s ready. Today is no different, as he grabs Louis’ right arm from around the horse’s neck and wrenches it behind him, ignoring Louis’ grimace as he forces back his other arm as well, maneuvering them into a box shape so that his hands are grasping the opposite elbows. 

Rope gets wound around these as well, securing wrists to elbows and elbows to the saddle, so that he’s tacked down like a saddle bag. One of the reasons Louis was chosen originally for the position of saddle whore is his small frame, which unfortunately is  _ just _ small enough that the loops of the saddle meant for these rope is just a little too big, so his arms are pulled up toward his shoulders while his legs are pulled back (it doesn’t help that the stablehand is a right prick and doesn’t leave any give, stretching him out like a hide for tanning). 

The last part, and the part Louis hates the most, is the leather horse bit that the stablehand brings out. It’s made to fit Louis perfectly, with the addition of a thick panel in the middle to weigh down his tongue.  _ To keep you from spreading sensitive information around the rest of the party present, _ a courtesan had told him,  _ and to keep you from biting your tongue on rough rides. _

Louis obediently opens his mouth when the stablehand approaches with it, that terrible smug look on his face. He shoves it unceremoniously into Louis’ mouth, making him gag, and ties it around behind his ears with no thought to the way it cuts into the corners of his mouth. Louis tries to work it into a more comfortable position, but the way it’s made his tongue lays heavy and useless beneath it in his mouth and he’s powerless to adjust it. 

The stablehand smirks and slaps his cheek just a little too roughly to be playful (especially against the bit gag), and clips a lead to Alfie’s halter, using it to lead them out of the stall and into the bright sunlight just outside the stables. 

Louis shuts his eyes against the light, squinting just enough to see the stablehand wrap the lead around a post and walk off, leaving him alone on the castle green. He feels the sun warming his backside, and feels the slow breathing of the horse beneath him. Drool leaks from his mouth and he works to unclench around the bit. 

By the time he hears voices approaching, his limbs have already started to tingle from the tightness of the ropes and lack of movement. He opens his eyes enough to see another noble approaching on a chestnut horse, and the prince walking next to him, talking animatedly about something. 

He  _ feels _ it when the prince puts his foot into a stirrup and hoists himself up, landing comfortably on the saddle just behind Louis. He’s still talking about something, and Louis catches bits of  _ trade agreement  _ and  _ new university. _ The next thing he’s aware of is the prince leaning over him to grab the lead and unwind it, one large hand splayed across Louis’ back for balance. Louis shivers at the contact. 

It’s not his business where they’re going or why, but he has nothing else to do but listen in as they continue their conversation, completely overlooking the human saddle decoration as they set off toward the woods at the edge of the palace green.  _ Taxes _ and  _ welfare _ and something about  _ distant cousins.  _ They don’t pause for breath until the path in the woods narrows and they have to go one at a time. 

The prince’s hands have been resting lightly on Louis’ bum this whole time, but as he’s driven into silence beneath the green canopy, he leans forward and palms one cheek, digging in with strong fingers. 

“I’m always glad when I end up with you,” he says, voice low. 

Louis can’t respond but the prince surely doesn’t expect him to, and mere moments later he feels a thumb prodding at his hole. Louis prepared for this, doesn’t need any prep, but the prince has always liked to start with a gentle hand. Still, it’s not long before he’s adjusting himself in the seat, and Louis can’t turn his head enough to see but he knows what’s happening, expects it when the prince’s (considerably large) cock starts to slide inside of him, clearly already well anointed with oil. 

Louis sighs, feeling almost like a relief as he’s finally filled. The prince slides forward in the saddle, until he’s comfortably inside, and leans forward, rests his hands against Louis’s shoulder blades. 

While from time to time the prince does like to thrust a bit, roll his hips when it pleases him, for the most part it’s the ride itself that keeps him occupied inside of Louis, the natural gait of the horse setting up a steady rhythm. 

Feeling full and used, Louis can settle in and concentrate on that sensation, rather than the soreness of his mouth, or the fact that he’s slowly losing feeling in his arms and legs. On longer journeys like these, it can take hours for his limbs to start to work like normal, and he’ll probably be dropped on a hay bed somewhere in the city while the prince takes care of whatever business he has. If he’s lucky his body will have returned to full functionality by the time they’re ready to leave again, and whatever stablehand is taking care of the horses there will be in charge of getting him trussed up and immobile all over again. 

Especially with the prince’s weight against his ass and his cock inside, Louis feels himself pushed forward against the saddle in a steady rhythm that has his own cock coming to attention, caught underneath him and unreachable. If they get up to a cantor he might eventually even spill on the saddle. The prince once waited long enough to see him untied and looked quite pleased with the mess on his stomach when Louis was helped off. 

Now, though, he has several hours ahead of him, so Louis closes his eyes and concentrates on the feeling of  _ fullness _ and on the prince’s strong fingers digging bruises into his back. 

— 

The other horseman peels off at some point, and Louis isn’t at all sure when. He didn’t expect it to happen, has never been with the prince without a convoy before. They emerge into busier roads for a time and then escape back into another forest, dense trees speckling the sunlight that lands on them. Louis is well and truly lost when the prince slows their pace to a walk and they approach a small cottage, well and truly secluded. 

The prince has kept him full this whole time, and now thrusts into him once before pulling out entirely, tucking himself beneath his loose dress shirt and swinging off of the saddle. 

“No one will expect me home until well after nightfall,” he says, voice deep and slow and cheerful. Louis watches him with confusion, unsure as to what’s happening. 

The prince’s hands on the knots to his ropes have him at attention, though. No royalty is supposed to assist with a whore like this!

“You’ve always been the beautiful one,” the prince says quietly as he unties the ropes around Louis’ thighs and calves. When his left leg falls free, it simply falls. He’s long ago lost feeling in all of his limbs, and they might as well be made of wood now. “I’ve many times mentioned that you should be in the palace, as opposed to a simple saddle slave.” He does the same with the other leg, tugging it free. 

“But of course then, I guess I wouldn’t be able to do this,” the prince continues, undoing his wrists and elbows now, making quick work of the rope so that they fall free at his sides. Louis is heavily aware that it’s only the prince’s hands keeping him from falling from the saddle to the forest floor now. 

“I know it takes a few hours until you’re able to be yourself again,” the prince says, his hands steady around Louis’ torso as he pulls him off the horse like a sack of flour from a high shelf. “Just like a porcelain doll, needing to be posed and held in place.” He has one arm beneath Louis’ (aching) bum and one around his shoulders, carrying him away from the horse, who seems content to graze. 

Louis’ mouth is dry from being unable to close, and the bit still cuts into his cheeks. He mumbles something thick and unintelligible — but what would it have even been anyway?

The prince pushes the door of the cottage inward, and through the darkness Louis sees a small kitchen space and table, but mostly the large, plush looking canopy bed, like he’s had it made for just a purpose such as this. 

The prince lets him fall backward onto the bed, his limbs still heavy and immobile like lead, with only the slightest of pinpricks starting to make themselves known. Louis moans through the bit in his mouth, watching as the prince strips in front of him. 

The prince grins at him, a crooked sort of thing that gives him dimples. “I thought since you’ve no more strength than a doll right now, might as well complete the effect and keep that in there,” he says, throwing his shirt aside and revealing his still hard cock, upright and at attention. “Don’t worry, my little doll, I’ve been thinking about these next few hours for a  _ very _ long time. 

As he looms over Louis, mounting the bed and bracketing him in, Louis takes stock of just how helpless he truly is. In the middle of nowhere with no ability to move or speak, completely at the prince’s mercy to toy with him as he sees fit with no hope of anyone else finding them or helping him.

He whimpers as he feels the prince slam into him, filling him up and pushing him roughly across the surface of the soft royal bedsheets.

He moans as the prince tugs his hair, pulling his head to the side as he attaches his lips to Louis’ neck with none of the softness his voice betrayed a moment before.

It feels like a dream come true. 


End file.
